Then

Aida woke up, maybe by a sound – was anyone there? She didn’t remember where she was, the shadows didn’t make sense and it took her a while before she realised where she was sleeping. Drowsy she raised from the bed, walked over to the sink, turned her back to it and by lifting her right leg she was able to pee in the sink. She washed herself with one of the guest towels and went back to the bed – The house was a typical old town house, three storeys but each floor only had one or two rooms, Aida was sleeping on the third floor in a medium sized room where French doors opened out to a small and closed terrace. The house, among many others, was built on an old graveyard. Aida was convinced there was ghost’s living there too, not necessarily bad ones, but surely she was never alone in the house, there was always a presence she couldn’t really explain, the feeling of someone observing her.

It had been a long day, she had a double shift and her body felt sore all over. Two times she had to be the submissive part of a role-play and not only that, but it seems that all the clients yesterday had been with demanding needs.
Aida knew this was not a life, she realised that long time ago but she was stuck, she couldn’t imagine an other life, not because she enjoyed the revolting many hands and body’s there went through her every day, no it was the illusion of freedom the money gave her or let’s call it the freedom of choice, the power she had daily over the clients who actually paid for her company, the only power she knew.

It was at the crack of dawn and a milky haze was hanging over the streets of downtown Odense. They went for the usual morning walk, her and her long time companion Muzet a fearless Doberman ran excitedly back and forth between her and the approaching corners. They walked by the bakery, though it wasn’t open yet she went to the back door and as usual the baker had prepared her morning bag with fresh breakfast bread and bits and pieces for the ducks.
They continued through empty streets and alleys, cutting through the city in a straight line heading toward the small park next to the railway station, they stopped at the pond and while Aida was feeding the ducks Muzet tried in fact to enter the pond and scare the ducks, it worked, though Aida suspected the ducks to be so use to Muzet that they actually didn’t fear her at all and only put on the wing-play to make the dog go mad.

Aida spread out the blanket on the soft and moist grass, opened the small picnic basket and poured a cop of hot coffee, she smeared half an inch of butter on two of the buns and while she enjoyed her coffee and a cinnamon roll Muzet was swallowing the butter buns.

Would the pain ever stop, would life eventually free her from the nightmares or would death?